Consequences
by ricca
Summary: Ianto takes it upon himself to teach Gwen that all actions have consequences.  Rated for strong suggestive themes.


_AN: This was inspired by Sam St James' ticklish-Gwen and, like all good inspirations, refused to be ignored. _

The peace of the evening is shattered by muffled shouting, and Jack looks up from his endless paperwork to observe Gwen Cooper, clad only in jeans and a bra, sprint past his office window, giggling madly. The slap of her bare feet against the concrete floor is only starting to fade, and he's wrestling with the urge to stick his head out the door and say something flirty or possibly vulgar when none other than Ianto Jones, dripping wet, clad only in a towel comes barreling out from the passage leading to the showers. Now that's just not fair. One of his beautiful colleagues running about is bad, but both is completely unacceptable. It's completely unreasonable to expect anyone to work in these conditions. He steps out of his office, not even trying to hide his ogling of the wet, barely clad Welshman. "Coming to see me?"

It is an act of God's grace that he doesn't slip on the damp floor. "Please, sir. Not right now." Ianto makes a valiant attempt at evasion, and nearly growls with frustration as Jack matches his step, staying firmly in his way. "I'll explain later. She's getting away." A feint to the left and he spins around Jack's exposed side, sprinting after the echoing giggles of his team mate.

What a wonderfully intriguing mystery. After Ianto's marvelously towel clad arse rounds the corner, he returns to his office, innocent whistling contrasting with his wicked grin. Paperwork be damned. A quick examination of the internal CCTV system, and he locates Gwen, bent over, hands on her knees, panting obscenely, her chest heaving, before casting a fearful glance behind her and taking off at a run again. "Merry Christmas to me." A short while later, Ianto, still clutching the towel around his hips, appears on the screen and continues after his prey.

He has to concede that she's in amazing shape. He's chased her all over the hub for the last 30 minutes now, and though he's closed some of the distance Gwen still manages to elude his revenge. "You can't run forever!" He shouts at her fleeing back, as she leaps up the stairs two at a time, black hair flying behind her.

"Neither can you!" She tosses over her shoulder, and turns onto the catwalk, only to slam into a solid warm chest. Her breath catches in her throat, and she looks up into twinkling blue eyes.

"Hello to you too." He can feel the heat radiating off her skin through his shirt. He moves his hand to push the strap of her bra back over her shoulder. "Can I join your game?"

Her eyes are wild, and she gives him a panicked look. "Don't you dare interfere, Jack. Don't you dare!"

Strands of damp hair brush against his cheek, carrying an alluring scent as she checks over her shoulder, and finding Ianto confidently sauntering towards her, swings a leg over the thin bannister separating the walkway from empty space.

"Stop her!" The command comes too late, and their fingers catch empty air as in a whirl of dark hair and white skin, Gwen Cooper, the silver medalist in gymnastics in 1992, 93, and 94 for the Cardiff Secondary Schools Championship, flips over the bar and drops to the ground, lands neatly, and turns to wave at her pursuer.

Ianto lunges toward the railing, but Jack is faster, catching him by the towel and pinning him against the railing. The younger man's skin is warm and slick under his hands. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

He spares a glance over his shoulder, and places a cautionary hand on his towel. "I'm simply trying to enforce a lesson that actions have consequences, sir."

There's a glint in Ianto's eyes that might have been mischievous, and that intriguing possibility is enough to distract Jack from the very thin, very damp, very fragile towel separating him from a naked Ianto Jones. Mischievousness which promises great fun to be had later if Jack will just please this once show a little restraint and wait. Jack moves to the side with a nod of acquiescence, and is rewarded with Ianto calling over his shoulder, "and you can always join my games, sir."

Anticipation tingles on his skin, as he leans on the banister to watch the woman on the floor beneath him. She twitches beneath his gaze and ignores his appreciative looks; trying to watch each entrance to her current space at once. He had thought there was nothing sexier than serious faced Gwen Cooper, armed to the teeth, covered in mud, and ready to kick ass. Clearly he has to rethink that belief now. If there is anything hotter than half naked Gwen, green eyes wide with fear, chest heaving, flushed with exertion; she belongs only in his fantasies.

The door behind her opens with a whoosh and Ianto all but barrels into the terrified woman. She struggles violently against his grip, but he has her arms restrained and she's entirely helpless. She doesn't cease struggling, even as he drags her over to the much abused Torchwood couch and pulls her down.

Jack watches the place where they had disappeared from view, and after a heavy moment of silence ear piercing shrieks fill the air. He turns on his heel and jogs toward the sounds of the cacophony. Upon arriving at the scene of the crime, it takes all his willpower to not burst out laughing. It should have been a hot sexy scene before him: Gwen arched over his lover's practically naked lap, arms pinned over her head, writhing and twisting beneath his ministrations. But her movements are a little too frantic, her face a little too red, and the unending track of her hysterical screeching and begging as his long pale fingers tickle her sides and underarms mercilessly put an entire different spin on the setting.

"Oh my god stop it I said I was sorry please stop oh my god Jack HELP!" Her coherence dissolves completely as her captor clinically choses a different spot on her torso.

"You want me to help?" Pinch me for I must be dreaming. He winks at Ianto, who breaks his stony expression to smile thinly. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" He rolls up his shirt sleeves and in a fluid movement pins her flailing legs, and gently scratches the arch of her bare foot with his free hand. Her legs give a mighty jerk beneath him, but he's too strong and she's already spent most of her strength trying to evade capture. "What did she do?"

Ianto adjusts his grip on her sweat slicked wrists, "try her ankle, sir." After a few more minutes he pauses, giving her a merciful chance to catch her breath, "Was I unclear last time?" His fingers brush threateningly against her underarm and she flinches.

A few desperate gasps for air and she shakes her head. "… no"

He flicks a strand of wet hair out of her eyes and smiles. "Good." He helps her sit up, arm draped casually around her shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?"

Gwen gives Ianto a sulky look and disengages her legs from Jack's grip. "I used the last of the hot water before he finished his shower." She huffs and folds her arms across her chest. "Complete overreaction."


End file.
